


there for each other for whatever like brothers

by B4RTONS



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Concentration Camps, Gen, Holocaust, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Steve Rogers, World War II, to avoid spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28403082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B4RTONS/pseuds/B4RTONS
Summary: Steve’s gentle, reassuring grip — so very different from Schmidt’s commanding, controlling, invasive touches — tightened on his shoulder slightly.“Please, Erik.”
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr & Steve Rogers
Comments: 16
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter One (1945)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cvptains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cvptains/gifts).



> title from Beautiful Oblivion by The Neighbourhood
> 
> happy birthday aelina, i love you.

Erik had accidentally knocked over a filing cabinet onto Dr. Klaus Schmidt, who now lay unconscious beneath it, when he heard the yelling. Loud, raucous voices, some strained and some elated, all in a foreign language he couldn’t make heads nor tails of.

He ducked behind the massive wooden desk and pressed his back to it, closing his eyes to avoid having to look at the prone figure of Schmidt and focused on slowing his panicked breathing.

_ He’s gonna kill me. That wasn’t supposed to happen, I wasn’t even trying to move the cabinet. What is he gonna do to me? Who else will he hurt? Who else can he take from me? _

A gun cocked in a room down the hallway. More shouts. Schmidt’s soldiers running from the foreign voices. Erik couldn’t tell if they were getting closer or further away.

_ I didn’t mean to do that. He’s gonna be so angry with me but I didn’t mean to do that. _

“Hey, where you goin’? That room’s empty, ain’t no one there.”

“Keep moving, I’ll be right with you.”

_ What’s gonna happen to me? _

Erik heard someone enter the room, with light, gentle steps. Searching. They paused, probably taking in the sight of the warped metal cabinet on the floor and the general debris laying about.

Erik waited.

_ Please go. Please don’t take me too. _

“You can come out, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Erik didn’t understand what they were saying; they were using that odd language the men in the halls spoke. But he did understand the tone they used. It was soft, coaxing.

It did nothing to calm him down.

“< _ Get away from me! _ >” Erik spat.

“Hey, hey, shh, shh.”

“< _ Stay where you are! Don’t come any closer! _ >”

He could tell they were still ever so slowly approaching him, and Erik pressed himself against the desk even harder, trying to make himself as small as he could.

_ Please leave me alone. _

He heard the person unhook something, followed by a metallic swish, and click it onto something else. With his peripheral vision, Erik noticed the reflection of the person in the glass window looking out upon the examination table. The figure had put their empty hands up to shoulder height.

_ “<Quickly, Erik. Hands up! Come on, dear.>” _

_ “<“Why, Mama?>” _

_ “<They’re here. They’ve found us. We don’t want them to hurt us, so we need to show them no resistance. Come on, darling, please, put your arms up. Everything’s alright. It’s going to be okay.>” _

Erik shook the memory quickly. He could not afford to get distracted right now. Not when the strange figure with the strange words was still coming closer. Why had they decided to show no resistance?

Were they afraid of Erik? Did they think he was going to take them away?

Erik was in no position to take on this person. They were taller than him, older. They had the position of advantage. So why...?

“< _ Who are you? _ >” He demanded.

They cleared their throat.

“< _ I’m not here to hurt you. _ >”

Erik paused. They’d used words he could understand. They sounded rough and unnatural on their tongue, and they obviously weren’t practiced; their enunciation was all off. They didn’t seem to be words the stranger often used.

“< _ It’s okay. You can come out. _ >”

He was terrified. But he was trapped, and he had nowhere else to go.

Slowly, he stood. Shaking fingers gripped the edge of the desk as Erik brought himself to his full height.

Standing there in the middle of Schmidt’s office was a man. He took in Erik’s smaller form, eyes lingering upon the almost perfectly concealed bruises on Erik’s face, placed there by Schmidt’s soldiers the last time Erik failed to make the shiny knives on that disgustingly clean examination table dance. The man sighed almost imperceptibly. Leather-gloved hands detached a cowl and lifted it from his face. He placed the helmet on the desk and slowly crouched down in front of the desk separating them until Erik was the one looking down at him. His demeanor was falsely relaxed; ever so slightly tense, ready, but he was in no position to attack.

“< _ What’s your name? _ >”

“< _ Who are you? _ >” Erik decided to ask again instead of replying, though with less of his previous malice.

“< _ My name is Steve. Steve Rogers. _ >”

“< _ Why are you here? _ >”

“< _ My team and I heard that this was a place where both HYDRA and Nazi soldiers were stationed and we came to see what was going on. _ >”

HYDRA was unfamiliar to him, but Erik knew immediately who the Nazis he was talking about were.

“< _ What do you want with me? _ >”

“< _ I want to bring you somewhere safe. Away from here, at the very least. Do you have some place to go home to? _ >”

Erik didn’t answer at first. Who was this Steve Rogers and why did he deserve a response from him?

His blunt honesty was what kept Erik standing where he was instead of running. He hadn’t hesitated before answering Erik’s questions, hadn’t pondered over how to phrase his responses. Though he wanted one, Erik had no reason to believe the man was lying.

He still couldn’t answer. An answer would be letting his guard down. An answer would be admitting the truth, and thereby making it true, that Erik had no one and nothing left. Nowhere ‘safe’ anymore.

But something about the blonde man crouched in front of Erik told him that it was okay. It was okay to be honest. As much as his screaming mind told him otherwise, he somehow found it in himself to believe that Steve wasn’t here to hurt him, he wasn’t here to take him, and he didn’t want to use him and his curse. It was odd, how he simply seemed to radiate comfort. He shouldn’t, what with the small grenades and other tactical looking objects strapped to his belt, his dirty, beat up uniform and the massive metal disk with the razor-sharp edges hooked on his back. The power imbalance between himself and the strong, tall, foreign man tripping over his terribly pronounced words that Erik was so familiar with should make Erik weary and distrusting. He wasn’t. It was inexplicable, and it terrified him, but he wasn’t.

He shook his head.

“< _ Okay. _ >” Steve said. He smiled, small and warm and full of concern. “< _ We’ll just have to figure something out then. _ >”

Steve stood and offered his hand to Erik. Erik hesitated for a couple seconds before walking around the desk and taking it. His body had decided to ignore his conflicting thoughts and move of its own accord apparently.

“< _ We’re gonna go back to the Allied base with the rest of my unit. They’re gonna be loud and excited, and quite frankly intimidating. Believe me, though I am their friend and leader, they tend to frighten even me sometimes. You can stay close to me the whole way back if you’d like. _ >”

Erik wanted to tell Steve that he didn’t need him to protect him. That he would be fine on his own. But he knew that Steve hadn’t meant his proposition like that; it was an offer of comfort, rather than an order to trust.

“< _ My name is Erik Lehnsherr. _ >” He said in a rush.

He felt his eyes widen as he realized, quite belatedly, what he’d just said.

Steve looked down at him again and smiled, big this time.

<“ _ Hi Erik. It’s nice to meet you. _ ”>

Erik found himself smiling shyly back.

Before they could set off, however, Dr. Schmidt began to stir behind them.

Steve and Erik whipped around. Erik watched, horrified, as Schmidt attempted groggily to push the cabinet off of himself. Steve looked down at him and looked like he was about to ask a question, but took in Erik’s expression. His eyes found Erik’s bruises again, and Erik saw his gaze harden as he bent down once more, gripping Erik’s shoulders.

“< _ Listen, Erik. I need you to get out of here, and fast. Go out the hallway, to your right, and follow the loud voices as best as you can. If you get lost, find a room to hide in and stay out of sight. Keep your eyes out for a short brunette man with a black eye mask, blue jacket, red pants and black boots. Tell him I told you to go with him and he’ll bring you to safety. I’ll catch up with the two of you, but I’m gonna hold this man here off as long as I can. Do you think you can do that for me?>” _

”< _ He’s not- _ >”

The corner of Steve’s mouth lifted, his knowing grin not quite stretching to his eyes. ”< _ I’m stronger than I look, buddy. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, go on.> _ ”

”< _ He’s stronger than he looks too. _ >”

”< _ I know what you’re offering, but you know you can’t stay. And I won’t let you. _ >”

Schmidt started to stir more restlessly, his tired grunts transforming into more defined noises of surprise and confusion. Steve glanced over at him quickly before looking back at Erik, his eyes pleading.

Though he was trying to quell it, to look strong, Erik knew he was making a similar expression. 

He didn’t want to leave Steve alone with Schmidt. What if he hurt Steve? What if he shot him, the same way he shot his Mama?

He could tell Steve wasn’t going to budge. He didn’t seem like the kind of man to waver in his decisions.

What help would Erik even be? He has no mastery over his powers, he’d be useless. Schmidt would cast him aside like swatting away a gnat and take the only person who’s shown him any semblance of kindness in the past year from him in seconds; like he meant nothing.

There was nothing he could do.

Steve’s gentle, reassuring grip  — so very different from Schmidt’s commanding, controlling, invasive touches  — tightened on his shoulder slightly. 

“< _ Please, Erik. _ >”

Erik made a distressed sound in the back of his throat and shut his eyes in frustration.

Steve’s thumb rubbed a comforting circle on his shoulder.

“< _ It’s going to be okay. _ >”

Erik’s eyes flew open and he opened his mouth to protest, but it had run dry. Vision blurred by unshed tears, his mom took the place of the man in front of him. Begging him to trust her, trust that things will be okay.

She lied.

He’s lying too.

He blinked and Steve came back into view, occasionally looking over Erik’s shoulder at Schmidt’s increasingly angry grunts and looking back at him with desperate eyes.

With less than milliseconds left to make a decision, knowing full well things would end badly no matter what he chose, Erik decided to run. As he left, he caught Steve’s gaze changing from imploring to hard determination, as Steve gave him an almost imperceptible nod of gratitude and stood to face Schmidt. He made it only a couple paces down the hallway before he heard Schmidt shout.

“< _ Where is he?! _ >”

Quickly and quietly, without thinking, he slipped into the closest room. If he shuffled himself just a few inches over, he could see what was happening in the office. 

“< _ He, is none of your concern. _ >” 

Gone was the warmth and welcome in Steve’s voice. It had been replaced by a harsh, almost frighteningly cold tone.

“< _ Who-... _ >” Schmidt stopped dead, absolutely goggling at Steve. After a few seconds, his face morphed into a mix of surprise and taunting leering.

“Well well well. If it isn’t the mighty Captain America! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I don’t know who you are, mister, but if you think that after what I’ve seen here today I’ll just let you walk free, you are sorely mistaken.”

“It’s Doctor, actually. And don’t worry. I wasn’t expecting to walk at all.”

They’d switched back to that foreign language, and Erik only had moments with his silent bitterness over not being able to properly eavesdrop anymore before he realized how odd it was that Schmidt also knew the language Steve and his friends were using. Even more surprising that Schmidt seemed to be just as comfortable as the strangers with it, compared to how rusty Steve was with the words Erik could understand. Nevertheless, Erik was still able to notice the way Steve’s posture shifted. Was he just as surprised at Schmidt?

“I know your style, Captain. You let your enemies dance around you, lull them into a false sense of security, but you never seem to drop the upper hand. I know I have no easy chance of simply leaving here. It’s honestly rather impressive.”

“I appreciate the flattery.”

Schmidt waved a hand. “Anytime, my friend.”

Steve’s gloved fists clenched. “Why children?”

“I never meant to harm him. I’m quite insulted by your insinuation.”

“The bruises on his face tell me otherwise.”

Schmidt sighed heavily. He didn’t quite meet Steve’s eyes, but Erik could tell from his stance that he had no intention of backing down. “Results require methods. And the effectiveness of some methods cannot be denied, however undesirable they may be.”

“You disgust me.”

Schmidt paused, any semblance of a gloating smile long gone from his face. To most, it would seem that Schmidt was conceding, but Erik knew he wasn’t. He was preparing.

“Where did you take him?”

“Why on earth would I tell you that?”

“He can’t have gone far, me and my men will find him.”

“Your men are gone. Incapacitated by my own.” Steve grabbed the giant disk and unclipped it from his back, hooking it onto his arm and assuming a defensive stance. “And you aren’t going  _ anywhere near  _ the kid.”

“You Americans are all so predictable.” Schmidt sounded exasperated, bored almost.

“Be grateful I didn’t go full cliché and ask whether you’d like to do this the easy way or the hard way. I assumed your choice would be rather obvious.”

As soon as Steve finished with this last incomprehensible taunt, he sprung into action.

It shocked Erik, how fast he was. Faster than anyone Erik had ever seen. Steve ricocheted his disk (shield? must be a shield.) off of the wall to his left, jumped off of the one to his right and launched himself at Schmidt. Schmidt was too focused on the shield and its peculiar rebound and trajectory to brace himself for Steve’s attack. For the first time in Erik’s life, he saw Schmidt actually flinch as they collided.

Steve rolled them both on the ground until he was able to get a point of advantage. He pinned Schmidt’s legs with one of his own and held his arm in a painful-looking position behind his back. Schmidt’s face was pressed forcefully into the carpet by Steve’s hand. With his free leg, Steve fished for his shield and was able to grab it, using it and his knee to pin Schmidt’s arm. He used his now free arm to grab Schmidt’s loose one and pinned them both under his shield.

This all happened in a matter of seconds. Steve had immobilized the most powerful, terrifying man Erik knew like he was simply another useless lackey, not even breaking a sweat. It took everything in Erik to keep himself from gasping aloud in surprise.

Schmidt laughed. It was muffled by the floor, which almost completely hid the fact that it was laced with shock.

“I knew you were strong, I’d heard the stories. But they do you an injustice. You are shockingly powerful. There’s no way you’re-” He paused, eyes widening. “No… No. Of course, it would explain everything. No, it’s  _ impossible _ . But-”

“But  _ what _ ?” Steve sounded impatient.

Erik could hear the smile in Schmidt’s voice, garbled as it was.

“You wouldn’t happen to be… one of  _ us _ , now would you?”

“If you’re suggesting that I’m a Nazi, you-”

“No, stupid boy. You’re far too colourful. I meant- well. With your inhuman strength and capabilities, it’s the only explanation that would make sense. Unfortunately, I have a personal... uh. Moral law, let’s call it — you seem like someone who would appreciate a good, strong moral code  — to not harm those of our own kind. This somewhat complicates our situation.”

“I am  _ nothing _ like you.”

“You misunderstand.” It was Schmidt’s turn to sound frustrated. “I don’t expect you to be like me, no one is like me.”  He grumbled, battling with himself. It seemed as if he was choosing what he should say next. 

“At what age did your gift develop?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play stupid with me.” Schmidt snapped, voice rising as the anger in him bristled. “The force you used to put me in this particularly uncomfortable position would’ve knocked a regular person out. You know exactly who I am and who you are.”

“He told me not to underestimate you.” Steve’s reply was matter-of-fact, as though he thought whatever he was saying should’ve been obvious. Schmidt’s knowledgeable chuckle that followed seemed to agree with this sentiment.

“Ah. Well, he is a smart one, isn’t he? I raised him quite well.”

“Is that how you viewed your treatment of him?”

“I never hurt him!” Schmidt practically shouted.

“Just because it wasn’t your own hand that gave him those marks doesn’t mean it isn’t your doing. You’re the one in charge here, you’re the one ordering your soldiers to torture children, take them from their families, ruining their lives. You either refuse to accept it, or you know exactly what you’re doing. Whatever way you choose to perceive this, you’re still the bad guy.”

“I am not your enemy,  _ American _ . This goes so far beyond petty sovereign rivalries, so much larger than your narrow-minded brain seems to be able to comprehend.”

“This fight has nothing to do with my country. This is for basic human rights. This is for freedom, purely and simply.”

“Your title suggests otherwise, Captain. You’re nothing more than a piece of propaganda, a useless symbol. With me and my guidance, you could be so much more. Your potential is wasted like this. Come, let me show you.”

“I’ve seen enough.”

Steve started to stand, lifting his hand from Schmidt’s head but keeping a firm pressure on his arms. Schmidt lifted his head and looked Steve in the eyes.

“Oh, young one. You haven’t seen  _ anything  _ yet.”

Unnoticed by both Erik and Steve, Schmidt had somehow managed to grab one of the grenades from Steve’s belt. He removed the pin with his teeth and smirked as Steve jumped away, curling himself impossibly small behind his shield. Erik covered his ears and tried to shut his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. The blast went off, much smaller than Erik was expecting, but his confusion lasted seconds at most before he noticed Schmidt standing there with his hands cradling the ball of fire. His head had split into three, hands and arms into more than Erik could count, his sneer still firmly set on his wavering, flickering faces. Another second passed and the explosion seemed to have vanished completely. If Erik had blinked, he would’ve missed the entire thing.

It was far too quiet in its wake. There was no sign the grenade even went off. Erik and Steve were too shocked to make a sound, too apprehensive of what was coming next. They both knew that couldn’t be all.

Schmidt raised his eyebrows challengingly at Steve as he stood again. Steve squared his shoulders and approached slowly, shield raised defensively. He threw a punch at his adversary’s jaw that bounced right off, the recoil sending Steve back a couple paces. He assumed a defensive position once more. Schmidt hadn’t even blinked.

“Who are you?” It was a question, but Schmidt didn’t answer. He simply smiled more and moved.

Four quick, consecutive blows to the shield, ribs, side and chin had Steve doubling over. Schmidt advanced again, getting two more in. Steve attempted to use his shield to block the hits, but Schmidt grabbed it and tossed it away. More punches. A couple retaliatory strikes that deflected like Steve was hitting pure steel instead of a man. Schmidt swept at Steve’s legs with such force that Steve went crashing down almost as if the floor beneath him had disappeared; his support completely gone. Steve looked up defiantly, teeth gritted to keep from making any noise.

Erik didn’t want to watch. He wanted to close his eyes, to shut his ears. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to witness this. He’d known this was coming, he should’ve been prepared for this. He wasn’t. He didn’t know if he wanted to get in there and help or get as far away as he possibly could. His legs didn’t listen to either proposition. He was stuck, and he didn’t want to watch. But he couldn’t look away.

More blows. Steve hissed through his grimace in pain as he tried to stand, but Schmidt just picked him up by the straps of his uniform and threw him against the opposite wall. Steve was fast, strong, agile and able. Far stronger than anyone Erik had ever seen. But he wasn’t a match for Schmidt. Not alone.

Erik tried to ignore it, to block it out. He couldn’t watch this. Every time he attempted to lose himself, to pretend that this wasn’t happening, the ceaseless sound of flesh on flesh came back tenfold, amplified, mocking him in his stupor. Taunting, leering. It knew he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything to help. The sound of Steve’s concealed shouts dying in his throat manifested themselves grotesquely in Erik’s mind and  _ laughed _ at him.

Erik couldn’t move.

Schmidt’s attacks were ruthless, but extremely calculated. It was terrifying how little effort he was using. He seemed almost detached, all his focus on the placement of his strikes, rather than the force of them. He had no grin on his face anymore and his eyes were cold. This was meticulous. This was pure strategy.

Steve rolled away from the punch that was aimed at his throat.

They might’ve been at this for hours. Erik couldn’t tell anymore.

A kick to the gut. A low, guttural groan finally escaped Steve’s lips.

Schmidt  _ cackled _ .

“Like I told you earlier, you’re impressive. You’re also frustratingly stubborn; I’m certain we could do this for days on end if we had to. But I, unfortunately, take no pleasure in this.”

Steve tried feebly to pull himself away. There was a cut over his eye that was bleeding profusely, the skin surrounding it already turning purple. His uniform was bloodstained and ripped in far too many places. His breathing was hitched and shallow. He shook where he lay. However, his face was still determinedly, admirably emotionless. He seemed to have mastered the control Schmidt had been trying to teach Erik for months.

Steve was facing the dark room where Erik was hidden. Slowly, he brought his head up to look weakly around it. He caught Erik’s eye.

Erik couldn’t do anything.

Steve’s eyes widened and his stoic façade crumbled. His face fell, looking more hurt than he had the entire time Schmidt had been bearing down on him. He glanced up at the doctor and tried to pull himself away again, his arms too weak to manage anything significant. Schmidt was focused on his own hands and arms, as though waiting for something to happen.

Steve looked back at Erik. His eyes were imploring like before when Schmidt had first awoken, but with none of his previous spark.

“< _ Please. _ >” He mouthed.

Erik was completely and utterly stuck.

“I’m sorry, my brother. I truly am.” Schmidt sounded apologetic. What he was waiting for seemed to finally be working. Erik noticed the faint glow in his hands, just as his fingertip touched Steve’s shuddering shoulder.

Blindingly white light erupted from the point of contact, engulfing Steve. Erik gasped aloud, horrified, and was finally able to shut his eyes.   
  


So. That’s where the explosion went.


	2. Chapter Two

The flash was nothing compared to the wave of sound that absolutely bombarded Erik’s eardrums. He slammed his hands against his ears to attempt to block it out, but the worst of the damage had been done. 

His other senses seemed to have gone dormant; he couldn’t feel the wall he was pressing his back to.

He was lucky his body still seemed to know what to do. If he hadn’t hid himself in this corner, Schmidt might’ve spotted Erik as the man burst into the hallway towards the exit, looking dishevelled and carrying a briefcase that was overflowing with files. A scan slipped out, and Erik recognized the picture as the MRI the doctor had taken of his brain.

It took the actual one in his head a long time to fully catch up with what just happened.

He’d done it. Schmidt did it.

He’d taken everyone and everything. He’d finally done it.

Steve was gone.

  
  


Steve was gone, trying to buy time for Erik, who was sitting here like a statue.

_ That’s what that look meant _ . Erik thought, as the memory of Steve’s face falling when he saw him hidden in the shadows swam into his mind.  _ He knew I’d wasted his efforts. That he’d done it for nothing. He knew this was my fault, and there was nothing either of us could’ve done _ .

_ Useless. Stupid. Wasted. _

He wanted- He didn’t know what he wanted to do.

He’d been sitting here too long.

His thoughts, simultaneously screaming and completely, utterly silent, were incomprehensible. They didn’t have the tone and facial cues Steve and Schmidt had when using their foreign language, so Erik couldn’t get a single shred of meaning from the mess.

His legs seemed to decipher something somehow. Erik registered movement through his blurred vision, and guessed they must be the walls he was presumably passing. He still couldn’t feel anything.

He didn’t much care where they took him. If they wanted to go somewhere, who was he to stop them? His decision-making record today was abysmal. He had no right to think things over and try to be logical anymore, considering he clearly never had any of it in the first place.

He walked for what felt like minutes. He couldn’t tell how long.   
  
  


Things started to come back to him in waves. First, it was his hearing. A faint, persistent ringing started to replace the desolate, stifling silence that had trapped him. It grew louder and louder. It went away completely. It came back. Erik didn’t strain. He couldn’t tell if the ringing was a good sign or a bad sign, nor could he tell which he preferred.

Next, it was his sight. The blur of muted browns, blues, greys and greens finally started to take form as the office he was oh so familiar with became clearer and clearer. Its objects, curves and corners were painfully familiar stings that he barely even registered. He’d blink, and they’d go away. He’d blink again, and they’d become sharper.

Blinking was a lot of work.

His thoughts still felt jumbled and messy, but that was okay. If he didn’t focus on them too much, they didn’t bother him.

If he didn’t focus on anything, maybe it would all just leave him alone.

A soft padding sound started to break through the ringing, and he realized he must still be walking. This place wasn’t big, so it was slightly confusing to him that he hadn’t walked straight into a wall yet, but he decided to not dwell on that either.

His head tilted down and his eyes found his worn, slightly tattered shoes. They weren’t the ones he’d worn when he was brought here, torn and ripped by childhood play and countless previous lifetimes of use. They were new ones, still had a bit of their shine. Worn by the kicking and flailing he did while strapped down to that damn table. Worn by the amount of times he’d taken them off and thrown them against the unmarked walls. Nowhere he’d lived had ever been this clean. Nothing he owned had ever been this nice. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

The scuffs on the wall were always gone by the next night he entered his ‘room’. Didn’t matter how many there were or how hard he tried to make them stay.

The stupid shoes remained as damaged as he made them though. It seemed Schmidt and his men had no issue spending their resources on keeping their place as pristine as possible, but they drew the line at keeping its guests, its  _ prisoners _ , looking as nice. Erik took pride in that. He didn’t want to be worth their resources. He didn’t want to be worth anything to them. He’d given up his goal of pleasing his captors long ago.

His eyes moved from his own shoes to the red boots lying half a foot away from them. They traveled up the man’s battered body and settled on his face.

Steve looked peaceful.

He looked wrong.

Steve was supposed to look stern and guarded. He was supposed to look challenging and angry. Supposed to look open, honest, caring, trustworthy, reliant and comforting and scared and pleading and kind.

He wasn’t meant to look like this.

This was wrong.

Erik’s legs lowered him gently to his knees next to Steve’s shoulder. He examined him more closely, taking in the bruises and the cuts, the clotted blood and the running wounds. Each injury seemed worse than the last. If Erik’s mind was registering or accepting any of this, he might’ve winced at the mere sight.

Automatically, he pressed two of his fingers gently to the spot on Steve’s neck where his pulse should’ve been. It seemed his arms weren’t as aware as his legs, as they’d forgotten that Erik still couldn’t feel a thing.

He tried the other side of Steve’s neck. Still nothing.

He looked bemusedly at his hand which turned itself towards his face. It was covered in deep red blood from a cut on Steve’s jaw.

His arm fell limply to his side.

He couldn’t feel  _ anything _ .   
  


He didn’t know how long he knelt there, staring at but not quite seeing the man before him. It felt like a long time, he still couldn’t tell.

At some point, the ringing quieted enough for him to pick up distant voices. Without pausing for even a second, his legs sprung him up and took him to the closest hiding place they could find. Pressed behind the wooden desk, Erik’s ears found the voices again. They seemed closer, he recognized distantly.

After a moment or two, the small man Steve had mentioned earlier with the brown hair and blue jacket came sprinting into the room, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Steve lying there on the ground. He called something over his shoulder. The ringing had returned, blocking everything out again, and Erik didn’t recognize the words on the man’s lips. He didn’t know if it was the language again, or his brain simply couldn’t process what he was saying. He guessed it was the former. It didn’t really matter to him.

He stood there in apparent shock for a while, then knelt down and pressed his fingers to Steve’s neck the same way Erik had. Erik watched, subconsciously praying the darkness would conceal him.

A moment passed, then another. His fingers roamed desperately, searching. His touch remained soft.

Finally, relief flooded the young man’s face. He shut his eyes and looked up, taking a deep breath. Erik sensed himself relaxing minutely as well.

When he opened them again, the concern returned to his eyes and expression. Though, not nearly as much as before. He placed his hand over the one Steve had splayed over his abdomen and rubbed the back of it softly. He carded his fingers through Steve’s hair and examined them, nodding slightly as his expression relaxed more. He checked everywhere he could reach on Steve’s head while keeping it as still as possible. Once he seemed satisfied, his hand relatively clean, he braced it on his own knee and looked over his shoulder.

“Dum Dum!”

He definitely used the foreign language.

A big, burly man with a bowler hat and a massive fluffy ginger mustache came walking into the room a few moments later. His eyes widened at the sight of Steve, but the short man shook his head.

“He’s alive, don’t worry. At least, I found a pulse. I’ve checked his head for bleeding but there was nothin’ I could find. I was too scared to examine the rest of him because he mighta hurt his spine, but I think we just have to get him outta here. I’m not strong enough to carry him.”   


“What if he does have a spinal injury?”

“I’d rather get him to a hospital while he’s still alive and risk paralysis than be too cautious now and end up bein’ too late. We’re just gonna have to chance it. Do you need help lifting him?”

He still hadn’t lifted his hand from the one Steve had on his stomach.

“No.” The big man responded gruffly.

He bent down and placed an arm beneath Steve’s knees, gripping his shoulders with the other. He lifted Steve into a bridal carry with impressive speed and care.

“He’s warm.” He said, sounding concerned. “Like, really warm. Barnes, he feels  _ cooked _ .”

“I know. We need to get him home. Fast.”

The shorter man sprang up and placed Steve’s dangling arm onto his abdomen. The burly man carrying him shifted Steve so his head was resting more comfortably against the man’s shoulder, and they set off.

Erik didn’t hesitate to follow them. He stayed in the shadows, managing to keep a distance while keeping up with their brisk, controlled pace. He eventually passed a room with a window that had a bright light shining through it. Erik slipped into the room and got a better look out the window. A massive tank sat outside, a bunch of men were pacing restlessly around it.

He watched their heads snap up as the two men and Steve exited the building. A couple of them rushed forward, but the short man shooed them away, towards the vehicle. Someone had it up and running in seconds, and the men and the tank had disappeared completely in less than 15.

Erik stayed there, perched at the window, silently watching the ghost of the strange men for a long time.

  
  
  


Eventually, his choice was made.

He tuned back in fully, only to find his mind reeling, screaming at him. He decided to ignore it and backed out of the room, returning to the office. He was walking fast, with purpose. He knew what he was doing. What he had to do.

He scoured the drawers and cupboards, scanning for anything that looked remotely valuable, and shoved them into the spare briefcase Dr. Schmidt had left behind in his haste to escape. He was going to need anything he could get his hands on if he was really going to go through with this.

Once the room had been thoroughly stripped, and the briefcase somewhat filled (not completely, Schmidt had known not to leave too many items of importance in this place right out here in the open), Erik took one last look at the room. Scanning it emotionlessly, not really retaining any of its details. Something was nagging at the back of his brain though, and he wanted to know what it was.

After some time, he realized. He went back to one of the desk’s drawers he’d already checked and found what he was looking for. He reached out and picked it up, his unfeeling hands only slightly shaking. He turned it around, tossed it in his grip, examined it thoroughly. Not really seeing it. He didn’t have to though, he’d had enough dreams featuring the damn thing.

He noticed, even in the faint light of the office, that some of Steve’s blood that was still on his hand had transferred onto the weapon as he played with it. He might’ve laughed in different circumstances; it was too poetic to ignore.

He shoved it into the inside pocket of his brown jacket and started making his way out of the prison.

He couldn’t help it. It scared him, especially considering what he had just witnessed and what was sure to come. It did. But he couldn’t help it.

The gun that killed his mother, the gun that killed countless, countless others, finally had the metaphorical blood on its hands physically represented. Represented by the blood of the one person Schmidt had failed to kill.

Erik smiled.


End file.
